Last Man Standing
by Begoogled
Summary: It’s Malcolm’s birthday, but he gets more than he could hope for.


**Last Man Standing**

Summary: It's Malcolm's birthday, but he gets more than he could hope for.

Beta: Kathy Rose

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or any of its characters. This is all written for non-commercial enjoyment.

Warning: Slight R/S

A/N: This was originally written for International Drown Malcolm Month, but it took me a bit longer than expected. I thought I'd give the man a more pleasant kind of drowning this year…

* * *

Lt. Malcolm Reed ran a hand over his damp hair as he stepped in the turbolift to the bridge. He prayed his attempt to bridle the locks did not make things worse, as he continued to work on the cuffs of his uniform.

He'd woken up bleary eyed to the shrill beeping of his alarm, only to realize with a start that it had been trying to get his attention for twenty minutes. With just enough time for a quick shower, he'd launched himself into a clean uniform. Well, "launched" was not the right word. It had taken his utmost concentration to put arms and legs in the jumpsuit. He blamed it on lack of sleep, as he'd been tinkering with a model of his EM barrier for most of the night, and had gone to bed well after his usual time.

Starfleet's R&D team had been able to fine-tune a force field prototype, in part because of his notes on particle density, but Malcolm still enjoyed doing his own experimenting. And sometimes, he admitted to himself grudgingly, he became too engrossed in his pet project, making him forget time and his duties. And today of all days, he thought with frustration. He finally got the uniform to cooperate. He gave a last tug on the zipper under his chin, and then stood at parade rest, breathing deeply through his nose.

Last year they had decorated his console with balloons and confetti, he recalled. Probably Travis' idea. The colourful dots of paper had gotten everywhere, and even months later he had still found a few stuck in a corner. Then there had been that pineapple cake in the first year of their mission. Malcolm smiled. Now, there was a treat he wouldn't mind seeing again. The ruckus with those alien poachers on the same day he could live without, thank you very much. But he also could not deny that those harrowing moments had brought the crew closer together.

At last, the lift door opened, and Malcolm strode out with purpose, hoping in vain that attention to his tardiness would be kept to a minimum. He had barely enough time to catch a glimpse of his immaculate console when a hand landed on his shoulder, and an exuberant voice commanded everyone's attention on the bridge.

"And here's the man we've all been waiting for!"

Malcolm turned around to see Trip wearing his trademark grin. With the engineer's hand firmly resting on his shoulder, he was steered around to face his fellow officers.

Although feeling slightly embarrassed, Malcolm took their congratulations and happy smiles in good grace. Even T'Pol seemed to endeavour a smile, if the line of her mouth were to be extrapolated. The one person who was conspicuous by absence was the captain. Archer was probably in his ready room, finishing some last-minute report, or maybe he was answering an incoming transmission from Starfleet. But for one who, when asked, would loudly proclaim he never cared for birthdays, Malcolm felt strangely disappointed. Once again, he reprimanded himself for being late.

Unaware of Malcolm's pessimistic thoughts, Trip gave him a knee-buckling slap on the back.

"I promised the Cap'n I'd realign the plasma injectors and purge the manifolds while we're in this system, so I can't stay. But remember," he warned while wiggling his eyebrows, "tonight, movie, my place. You bring the popcorn."

That lifted Malcolm's spirits somewhat. He fondly thought of the movie he had picked. _Zulu_'s Lt. John Chard had been one of his childhood heroes.

Trip started walking towards the turbolift, and then turned back, a teasing look in his eyes. "Did you ever finish that bottle we got from the Kathyans?"

Malcolm grunted in disbelief. "I recall that you were the one who opened it. I never want to taste another drop of that pink liquid again, ever." He felt shivers run down his back from just thinking about the recent accident with the frothy alcohol, and he scowled at Trip for bringing back the memory. The engineer just smiled back, and with a last wave, he was gone.

Malcolm took his seat, checked the status of his monitors, and then glanced around the bridge again. Travis seemed to be running simulations at the helm, as there was no other need for his piloting skills at the moment. His eyes roaming to the left, he caught Hoshi watching him. He couldn't help but return the smile she was wearing. She turned back toward her monitor, and Malcolm resumed his silent vigil.

T'Pol was intently studying her console, probably reading the reports coming from Astronomy while conducting calculations of her own. The science teams were ecstatic about gravity readings produced by a nearby cluster of stars, and the latest rumour was that they might be close to a breakthrough on the behaviour of dark matter. While he was pleased with the discoveries made, he also felt slightly frustrated at his inability to contribute anything meaningful. There was no planet to explore, no first contacts to safeguard, only "empty" space. Fascinating empty space, but not enough to keep this armoury officer occupied.

He debated leaving the bridge to check on the revision of the starboard phase cannon, but he had purposely delegated the task to Ensign Bernhard Müller. Malcolm wanted to give the man more command experience, and his sudden appearance might not be appreciated. Just like him, Bernhard had a strong sense of duty, and Malcolm had come to respect him as a capable officer and a fine man. But a restless CO might make the ensign think that Malcolm did not trust him with the task.

He inwardly sighed. If truth be told, he was bored. Had been for several days, and he was itching to get back to his force field experiment. Yesterday, he had even finished his monthly report to Starfleet, a task that he normally rescheduled until the last possible moment. And now there was nothing else to do but to recalibrate the sensors. Again. There was not even a Starburst streamer around to cheer him up.

Malcolm entered a few commands on his console, pressed the final button, then watched the familiar blue and red lines dance on his screen. Numbers scrolled by, telling him that this could take a while. Malcolm tapped his foot impatiently for a moment, then yawned. He shook his head in frustration. He could use a cup of coffee, but that had been low on his priority list while struggling out of bed. He promised himself a trip to the mess hall after he finished the calibrations.

Putting a hand under his chin, he stared at the dancing lines on the monitor. There was a certain grace to the algorithm, and his tired eyes couldn't help but follow the colourful patterns made. It seemed as if the blue line was trying to overtake the red one, but its smooth curves were a tad too wide for the jittery red line. He was rooting for the blue one, though. A corner of his mouth twitched at the thought. Slowly, his eyelids became heavy. It was becoming hard to focus on the readings.

The loud blaring of a claxon rudely awakened him. The overhead lights turned to muted reds, and Malcolm shut down the calibration process while frantically scanning his instruments for signs of intruders. There! Six blips were quickly moving closer to Enterprise. He looked up. "Commander!"

T'Pol's features seemed haggard in the dim lighting. "I see them."

The vessels were fast, and heading directly towards them. Malcolm thought the configuration looked vaguely familiar. He checked the computer's profile analysis, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"The ship's signatures resemble those of the Xindi. Reptilian." Malcolm's breathing quickened. That's why his security system had given a warning. He'd programmed contacts with all known hostile vessels to sound the alert. What were the Xindi doing in this area of space?

He had no time to theorize about their intentions, as they made that quite clear in the next moment. "They're firing weapons!"

The bridge shook heavily and panel lights flickered. Malcolm was already targeting weapons on the nearest enemy ship, but he couldn't get a firm lock. Meanwhile, status reports were coming in from all over the ship. The crew had been taken off-guard by this sudden attack.

"Hull plating at seventy-three percent!" he called out. That worried him. Even with their upgraded plating, Enterprise might not hold out long against six enemy ships. What were these blasted Xindi up to now? And where was the captain?!

T'Pol walked down the steps from the upper level to sit in the command chair while calmly giving orders. "Ensign, hail them. Lieutenant, lock on to the first ship, but hold your fire until I give the order."

The lead vessel fired again. A screen sparked behind him as Malcolm held on to his console. "Plating at sixty-five percent!"

Hoshi looked up. "They're not responding." Malcolm saw a hint of fear in her eyes.

T'Pol was holding on to the armrests of her chair. "Ensign, warp two. Any direction."

"Aye, ma'am."

Malcolm noticed a slight change in the ship's vibration as the stars on the screen turned into lines, leaving the Xindi behind them. He harboured no false hope that this would stop the sudden attack. Readings on his display confirmed it. "They're in pursuit."

"Increase our speed to warp four." T'Pol looked at her own readings, then turned in the chair and caught Malcolm's eye. "Lieutenant, bring 'Assagai' online."

Malcolm nodded, his face set hard in determination. The Xindi wouldn't know what hit them. Although experimental, he had seen the devastating effects of this new weapon.

A loud beep told them that the ships were closing in on them, fast.

"Ensign Mayweather, drop out of warp on my mark. Lieutenant, fire at will."

"Yes, ma'am," they replied in unison.

On the main screen, the leading ships were coming steadily closer, now showing purple and moss-coloured details on their forward pylons. Malcolm had to admit the ships' design was quite graceful, inconsistent with his view of the ruthless Reptilians.

"Now, Ensign!"

Enterprise dropped out of warp, and immediately Malcolm launched a cloud of tiny, silver projectiles. Instead of a straight line, their path was erratic as they twisted around each other, pulling closer and then bouncing off toward the tight formation of warships that were coming up behind them.

The Reptilians seemed to suspect a trap, and the ships started to split into two groups, but Malcolm knew the manoeuvre came too late. His eyes narrowed as he pressed the detonator.

On the viewscreen, he saw blue lines shoot out of the silver projectiles, connecting each emitter to its neighbours, and slicing any object that stood between them. Highly focused electromagnetic energy turned into a blinding scalpel. It lasted for only a second, but it was enough. Four Xindi vessels were directly caught in the energy net. They were cut into pieces, while internal explosions rocked a fifth vessel. A cheer went up around the bridge, and T'Pol turned towards Malcolm, clearly impressed.

Only the leading enemy ship remained operational, but it looked like its commander's "do or die" mentality had not been diminished by the fate of the other ships. It was still on an intercept course with them.

"I'm targeting the engines," Malcolm announced.

T'Pol stood up from the captain's chair, then eyed Travis standing at the science station. "Are there any survivors?"

Malcolm was surprised that Travis had moved from the helm to the science station. _They were in the middle of a skirmish, not doing cross training! _But he had no time to reflect on it as he noticed strange readings close by. Before he could shout a warning, three Xindi appeared on the bridge. One was upon T'Pol in an instant, and even though Vulcan strength was legendary, she stood no chance against her attacker. One heavy blow with the back of the Xindi's weapon, and she was on the ground.

Meanwhile, Malcolm had grabbed a phase pistol out of its hidden compartment. With one swift move he was up on his console, using it as a springboard as he dove upon a Xindi Reptilian. They were both thrown against the railing, the Xindi neatly hitting his head in the process. _One down, two to go._

The other Xindis had taken cover behind the helm, and were now firing at Malcolm and Ensign Müller, who had appeared from the turbolift.

Malcolm felt like a sitting duck as he twisted around the captain's chair, trying to get a clear view of the intruders. He got off a shot, then let out a hiss as he felt a blast of energy singeing him. He looked at the cuff of his uniform, now red with blood, where a gilded button had melted. He didn't feel any pain, which confused him momentarily. _The adrenaline must be keeping me alert_. Malcolm felt his anger rising. _Those Xindi really had some gall!_ He waited a second, than turned and hit the left Xindi in the head. The Reptilian dropped like a bag of sand. _One more to go._

Müller kept up a steady barrage to keep the last Xindi occupied, but Malcolm still couldn't get a clean shot from his position. Readying himself to dive forward, he was suddenly surprised by a familiar figure coming out from one of the auxiliary doors onto the bridge, carrying a cake.

"Chef!"

Chef reacted with lightning speed, lifted his broad arms and smashed the huge pineapple cake on top of the last Xindi warrior. The Reptilian, his face now covered with cream, fired a frenzied shot. Luckily, his aim was off, and being exposed, Malcolm took him down with ease.

Two seconds later, all three Xindi shimmered off the bridge, and the solitary ship sped away in defeat.

The danger successfully averted, Chef stood over the remains of his cake, hands on his hips.

Malcolm mirrored Chef's grin, shaking his head in disbelief. "Your cooking always packed a punch, Chef."

"I'm glad to be of service, Lieutenant, but I am sorry that the gift for your _compleanno_ is completely wasted." Chef now looked somewhat sheepishly at the chunks of pineapple lying on the deck plating.

"That's all right, Chef, I thought your timing was perfect." Malcolm moved to help T'Pol, who was slowly sitting up. "The Xindi are gone. Are you all right?"

T'Pol looked to be somewhat confused, but the respect in her eyes was evident. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I presume they needed some convincing?"

T'Pol was joking? Something was not adding up here…

She let him help her stand up, then continued, "Enterprise and its crew would have been in great distress if you had not implemented this new weapon of defence, or shown such bravery in combat. I am honoured to serve with you." She folded her hands in a Vulcan sign of deference.

Malcolm was flattered, though he felt there was no need for the commander to thank him so profusely. And besides, he had had some help. But before he could answer, other crew members surrounded him.

Trip's face was beaming. The engineer caught him in a bear hug. "Mighty glad to have ya on our crew, Malcolm."

Travis shook his hand in jubilant awe, while Hayes kept punching him in the shoulder while shouting, "I couldn't have done it better myself!" Still more were eager to congratulate their newfound hero.

Hoshi pressed herself through the ecstatic crew, then reached out and gently touched his cheek. His grin softened as he gazed into her eyes. She whispered a soft, "Thank you," then kissed him on the cheek.

A warm wave of gratitude from his friends swept over him, and Malcolm almost drowned in its intensity, but he did not fear it. Basking in their loyalty and friendship, he felt on top of the world. Life was great.

"I really need a cup of coffee." Hoshi sighed.

"What's that, love?" Malcolm was losing himself in her dark eyes.

Hoshi raised an elegant eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Suddenly, Malcolm's surroundings became blurry, and he had to blink a few times. When he opened his eyes again, he realized he was slumped over his station while Enterprise's communications officer was standing next to him, arms folded.

~.~.~.~.~.~

Hoshi Sato was trying very hard not to laugh. Malcolm looked like a deer caught in headlights, a memory she needed to savour. It wasn't often that she caught the armoury officer unawares. But even though she was tempted to draw the man out, she had her orders. Therefore she continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"T'Pol gave me permission to take a short break. I thought you might like to get something from the mess hall as well."

His eyes shifted from her face down to his console, where he was running some kind of calibration. He frowned, then looked up at T'Pol working at her station. His eyes flitted back to hers, but he did not seem to find any comfort there. Understandable, Hoshi thought, feeling her mouth twitch. The lieutenant's face was trying out a new shade of red.

"Yes, that…that sounds lovely… I mean, fine!" he stuttered.

~.~.~.~.~.~

Malcolm knew he was blushing. But it was not only because of the mischievous glint in Hoshi's eyes, but because he felt ashamed. Rubbing a hand over his face, he tried to gather his wits about him. It was quiet on the bridge. There were no sirens wailing, or any sign of bloodthirsty Reptilians nearby. It had all been a dream.

Glancing at his monitor, he noticed that he'd only been out of it for a moment, which at least got his heart pumping again. But he felt anger rising for his own lack of discipline. If this had happened during a crisis, he could be stripped of his rank or thrown in the brig. Probably both. Not to mention the danger such behaviour posed to himself and his crewmates. He kept this personal tirade up during the ride on the turbolift. Then his spirits lifted somewhat as he thought of his EM model, and if this "energy net" had any plausibility.

Hoshi suddenly interrupted his thoughts. "Oh, I just remembered a package my mother sent me with the last shipment." Her face lit up. "I'd been complaining to her about missing my favourite brand of chocolate, since Liz and I ate the last bar after that Bra'asha incident. You remember our trip down there?"

His mind still partly on new EM configurations, Malcolm nodded. That had been one angry saleswoman.

"I thought about getting it now, so we could have a little treat with our drinks. You know, for your birthday."

Malcolm had been ready to decline the invitation, but that last comment had been said with such kindness that he could not spoil her fun now. His chagrin ebbed, and as the lift doors opened on her deck, he courteously extended his arm toward the hallway. "Lead the way."

He promised himself that after their trip to the mess hall, he'd ask the captain for the rest of the day off to get some much-needed rest. His tinkering would have to wait. Again he wondered where the captain was. He asked Hoshi about it.

"I haven't seen him this morning, either," she replied. "I think he's catching up with paperwork. Now that Enterprise is back on her original mission, Starfleet seems determined to get every tiny detail of our discoveries written in duplicate."

Malcolm waited in the corridor while Hoshi got the chocolate from her quarters. It took her longer than he expected. But when she came out again, he had to admit the trip had been worthwhile. Hoshi must have seen the look in his eyes, for she held the enormous chocolate bar protectively in her arms.

"This chocolate saves lives. Let's not gorge ourselves."

Now it was Malcolm's turn to lift an eyebrow. "Who are you kidding?"

She smiled impishly. "I guess we could try some now. We don't have to wait until the mess hall…"

Deftly, she opened the silver package and broke off two big pieces of the rich, dark chocolate. Malcolm thanked her, and together they walked back to the turbolift, munching on their treats. She asked him if he had heard anything from his family recently, and he told her about the letters from his mother and Madeline.

The chocolate was soft, and Malcolm licked his fingers when the last crumbs were gone. By now, he had become really thirsty, and he was looking forward to that cup of coffee. Just before they reached the mess hall, Hoshi stopped him. "Wait! You still got some evidence on your face."

Malcolm held still while she reached out and brushed at a trace of chocolate on his chin. He felt slightly uncomfortable at her touch, aware of his earlier dream. "Thank you, Ensign."

Hoshi rolled her eyes, than swung the gigantic chocolate bar at him. He neatly sidestepped her, thanks to his recently acquired energy from the sugar dose, as the mess hall doors opened.

"SURPRISE!"

Malcolm's mouth dropped. The mess hall was completely filled with crew members. Brightly coloured balloons hung over their heads, and a huge banner with the words "Happy Birthday, Lieutenant!" was fastened to the serving cabinet.

In front of the crowd, surrounded by his bridge crew and the doctor, was Captain Archer. He was wearing a proud smile and holding up a huge pineapple upside down cake covered by too many candles.

Malcolm realized that Hoshi had taken him on a detour so that T'Pol and Travis were able to arrive before he did. He must be losing his edge. _Or she just has a way of distracting me_.

Slowly, the cheering and laughter died down as Archer led the group into song:

_For he's a jolly good fellow._

_For he's a jolly good fellow._

_For he's a jolly good fellow!_

_Which nobody can deny._

_Which nobody can deny._

_Which nobody can deny._

_For he's a jolly good fellow._

_Which nobody can deny._

Malcolm had a lump in his throat. Here were his friends and colleagues showing their appreciation, and sharing in this happy moment. Only this morning he had wondered if he really mattered, and if he had the respect of his commanding officer.

He chuckled as his friends crowded around him, pounding him on the back in congratulation, shaking his hand. And just like in his dream, he received a kiss on the cheek from a certain linguist.

THE END

A piece of the birthday cake (or a hug from Malcolm....) if you leave a review!


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